ir conversation was the sudden death of George Bullock, which
had occurred on the same night, and, as nearly as they could
ascertain, at the very hour when Scott was roused from his sleep by
the "mysterious disturbance" here described, and sallied from his
chamber with old Beardie's Killiecrankie claymore in his hand. This
coincidence, when {p.233} Scott received Erskine's minute detail of
what had happened in Tenterden Street, made a much stronger impression
on his mind than might be gathered from the tone of an ensuing
communication.

TO D. TERRY, ESQ., LONDON.

ABBOTSFORD, 4th May, 1818.

DEAR TERRY,--I received with the greatest surprise, and the
most sincere distress, the news of poor George Bullock's
death. In the full career of honorable
industry,--distinguished by his uncommon taste and
talent,--esteemed by all who transacted business with
him,--and loved by those who had the pleasure of his more
intimate acquaintance,--I can scarce conceive a more
melancholy summons. It comes as a particular shock to me,
because I had, particularly of late, so much associated his
idea with the improvements here, in which his kind and
enthusiastic temper led him to take such interest; and in
looking at every unfinished or projected circumstance, I
feel an impression of melancholy which will for some time
take away the pleasure I have found in them. I liked George
Bullock because he had no trumpery selfishness about his
heart, taste, or feelings. Pray let me know about the
circumstances of his family, etc. I feel most sincerely
interested in all that concerns him. It must have been a
dreadful surprise to Mr. Atkinson and you who lived with him
so much. I need not, I am sure, beg you to be in no hurry
about my things. The confusion must be cruelly great,
without any friend adding to it; and in fact, at this
moment, I am very indifferent on the subject. The poor kind
fellow! He took so much notice of little Charles, and was so
domesticated with us all, that I really looked with a
schoolboy's anxiety for his being here in the season, to
take his own quiet pleasures, and to forward mine. But God's
will be done. All that surviving friends can do upon such a
loss is, if possible, to love each other still better.--I
{p.234} beg to be kindl